


did you lose a bet or something?

by iam93percentstardust



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Teasing, This is pretty cracky, but not enough that i'm going to tag it as such
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 11:21:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20656394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iam93percentstardust/pseuds/iam93percentstardust
Summary: Steve loses a bet. Neither Tony nor Bucky are sympathetic.





	did you lose a bet or something?

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be inspired by [this post here](https://iam93percentstardust.tumblr.com/post/187741296170) but then the prompt got away from me. Whoops!

In his defense, Steve wouldn’t have made the bet if he hadn’t thought he would win.

Steve doesn’t like to make bets that he can’t win. In hindsight, he probably shouldn’t have made this one but Tony had had the prettiest afterglow and Steve had been smug and then Clint had complained about catching them having sex in the gym again.

“I bet you can’t go one week without having sex outside your bedroom,” Clint had said and, smugly, Steve had taken the bet.

And he thought he had succeeded! He hadn’t fucked Tony other than in their bed even once! He’d (still smugly) announced to Clint that he had won and insisted that Clint do the entire team’s paperwork for a month. And then Clint (just as smugly) had informed him that he had caught Steve sucking Bucky off in the kitchen just that morning. Steve had spluttered that that hadn’t been the original terms of the bet, at which point they’d turned to JARVIS, who had “helpfully” ruled that Clint had won.

Which leads Steve to where he is now: unable to have sex with either Tony or Bucky for a month.

“What about in the tower?” Steve had asked.

“Nope,” Clint had replied.

“Our rooms?”

“Nope.”

“At all???”

“Nope.”

Admittedly, this wouldn’t have been as big of a problem if Tony and Bucky had gone along with him. But Tony had looked wholly insensitive when he’d told him what he’d done.

“I’m not joining you in solidarity,” Tony had told him flatly. Steve had wanted to argue but Bucky had entered the room, laughed his head off about the whole thing, and then hoisted Tony up into his arms and kissed him soundly. Steve had fled the room less than two minutes later.

Truthfully, it isn’t like Tony and Bucky had even rubbed it in his face. They’d been kind enough to accept that Steve wanted to change bedrooms so he wouldn’t be tempted to reach for one of them in the middle of the night. They hadn’t done anything in front of him and they hadn’t even made it obvious that they’d been up to anything. Sure Steve could still tell (Bucky’s a biter and Tony always gets this dazed look when he’s been fucked) but it really hadn’t been too bad.

Steve should have known better than to think it would last.

It’s not like he doesn’t know that Tony’s petty because he does. It’s just that Tony’s very _selectively _petty. Megyn Kelly reports that Tony’s a warmonger who’s only pretending to be a superhero to keep from drowning in the oceans of blood he’s spilled and Tony just scowls (it’s Pepper who demands a retraction and threatens to sue for libel) but Nat eats the last of the donuts and Tony won’t speak to her for a week unless it’s through JARVIS. So when Tony hadn’t bothered to be petty about Steve’s punishment after that first day, he’d gone ahead and relaxed.

He’s not entirely certain why he didn’t think Tony would wait until the last day to make his move.

Tony spends the entire day in an oversized shirt and nothing else and then proceeds to lounge about wherever Steve is. He’s gorgeous and tempting and it’s all Steve can do to keep his hands off of him. He attempts to lock him out, which would probably be more effective if he wasn’t dating the owner of the Tower. Tony just has JARVIS unlock the doors and gives him a deeply unimpressed look.

He ends up deciding to head out for the night (can’t be tempted if he’s not around, right?) and ends up at the Mets’ final game of the season. Tony, in typical Tony-style generosity, had purchased the three of them season tickets to the Mets last year for Bucky’s birthday (it would have been Steve’s but Steve’s still hung up on the Dodgers no matter how often Bucky calls them sellouts). Also in typical Tony-style generosity, he’d gone all-out and purchased them a private box. Bucky and Steve both still prefer to sit in the cheap seats but Tony doesn’t because he always gets pestered for pictures and autographs, more than either Steve or Bucky ever will, and so they both cheerfully suck it up and sit in the box.

Of course, the privacy of the box makes for some interesting times when the games are moving slowly or the Mets are losing and neither Bucky nor Steve want to watch it.

Less than five minutes before the game starts, the door opens behind him and Tony saunters in, Bucky right behind him. “I’m deeply offended,” Tony tells him melodramatically. “Deeply.”

“Are you now,” Steve replies flatly.

Tony nods solemnly. “It’s like you’re trying to avoid me.”

“I was.”

Tony gasps theatrically. “Why would you _ever _do a thing like that?”

Steve looks pointedly at the dark green plaid shirt Tony’s wearing. It’s several sizes too big for him and Tony doesn’t even _own _plaid so it has to be either his or Bucky’s and since Bucky doesn’t like the color green, that narrows it down to Steve’s.

“Offended,” Tony repeats and flounces over to one of the couches in the box.

“Are you also offended?” Steve asks Bucky dryly.

Bucky smirks. “I’m just here for the show.”

Steve goes a little cold. He knows that filthy smirk, knows it intimately well. This is the smirk that Bucky wears right before he ties Steve to the bed and lets Tony tease him for _hours _before he finally sinks down on him. This is the smirk that he wears when he sits beneath Steve’s desk and keeps his dick warm in his mouth the whole day, keeping him from moving with his own serum-enhanced strength (admittedly this is also the smirk that he wears right before he steals Tony away from his own gala, stuffs his silk tie into his mouth, and fucks him so hard he’s got bruises on his hips for two weeks but _Tony’s _not the one who fucked up here).

Bucky just settles down next to Tony and drapes his arm across his shoulders. He tugs Tony’s shirt- _Steve’s _shirt- down off one shoulder but just rubs gentle circles over the bared skin with his thumb.

“You could join us,” Bucky suggests, keeping aggressive eye contact with Steve. “Plenty o’ room over here.”

Steve resolutely does not move from his chair. He resolutely does _not _think about how much more comfortable the couch would be or how soft Tony’s skin is or how Clint isn’t there to be watching.

Clint would find out. Clint _always _finds out when it comes to these stupid bets and the punishment for skipping out on losing a bet is always worse than losing the bet itself.

Steve manages to ignore both of his boyfriends all the way up through the seventh inning. The Mets are losing but they’re doing so in a spectacularly interesting fashion and he ends up genuinely invested in the game. In the back of his mind, he’s a little worried about how quiet Bucky is (Tony’s always this quiet during the games) but they never seem to be doing anything when Steve just happens to glance over at them.

He stands during the seventh inning stretch. “I’m gonna get a hot dog,” he announces. “Want anything?”

Tony’s on his tablet, working on some sort of schematic, and he just shakes his head. Bucky hums consideringly and then says, “A beer.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. He used to enjoy a beer every now and then but that was before he got the serum. Now if he has to drink something that can’t get him drunk, he at least goes for something that tastes good. And stadium beers are always nastily warm.

He’s in line for most of the stretch, has a nice chat with a couple of the other fans, signs a few autographs. By the time he makes it back to the box, the stretch is almost over. He’s a little sad that he missed the mini events with the kids but he’s definitely not sad about leaving the box. The stretch is usually when Bucky and Tony like to put on a show of their own.

He’s certainly not expecting for their show to still be going on by when he walks back through the door. Bucky’s turned the couch away from the field and toward the door, which means that Steve gets the perfect view to Tony squirming in Bucky’s lap as soon as he opens it.

The beer slips from his grasp and splashes up as it hits the ground, high as his chest.

“Oh no,” Tony drawls, pulling away from Bucky’s neck. “Looks like you’ll have to take your shirt off.”

Bucky flashes that smirk again. Steve has the immediate thought that this was planned. They wanted him to leave, wanted him to get that beer.

“Close the door, would ya, Stevie?” Bucky says lazily. “Wouldn’t want anyone else to see Tony like this, now would we?”

Tony, the little exhibitionist, shivers and Steve has half a mind to leave it open. But he closes it, curious to see what Bucky and Tony have planned. “That’s it,” Bucky murmurs. “Why don’tcha have a seat there?”

He nods at a chair across from them and Steve sinks into it. Bucky keeps his eyes fixed on him as he pulls Tony further into his lap, draping his legs sideways over his own. Tony slides one hand up across his chest and hooks around his neck, the other fisting in his shirt. He leans back in and presses kisses to Bucky’s neck, sloppy enough that Steve can hear him. Tony’s always been like that- desperate to leave his mark on Steve and Bucky just as they leave theirs on him. He’s never successful, not with the serum healing any bruises he makes as quickly as he makes them, but he’s always enthusiastic. Steve shifts, cock hardening in his pants.

The corners of Bucky’s lips curl up in a slow smile. His metal hand slides down Tony’s back to the curve of his ass as he bends his head to Tony’s ear. “He’s watchin’ ya, doll,” he mutters.

Tony buries his head in Bucky’s neck, letting out a soft whine. Steve can just barely see the blush staining the edges of his cheeks and he groans. Tony likes for people to watch him, likes for Steve or Bucky to take him apart while the other one is forced to sit and watch, unable to touch, but it makes him squirmy for it to be pointed out.

“Isn’t this whatcha wanted?” Bucky teases. “Stevie watchin’ you, seein’ what he’s missed out on?”

He squeezes Tony’s ass. Tony gasps and rocks his hips into Bucky’s. “This was his idea,” Bucky says, heated gaze raising to Steve’s. “He’s been thinking of this for _weeks_.”

“_Tony_,” Steve moans. His cock’s rock hard, pressing against the front of his jeans. He wants to reach down to adjust himself but as he starts to move, Bucky shakes his head.

“Nuh-uh,” he says. “What would Clint say?”

“_Damn Clint_,” Steve snarls.

Bucky grins. “I doubt he’d like to hear that.” He looks back at Tony. “Doll, where’s my backpack?”

Tony, in a feat of flexibility that has Steve thrusting helplessly into the air, bends over backwards to pull the backpack onto the couch. Bucky reaches into it, rummaging around for a second, and emerges with two sets of handcuffs dangling from the tip of his finger.

“Tony, doll, could you make sure our dear Captain doesn’t break his promise to Clint?”

Steve watches as Tony slithers off of Bucky’s lap and sashays toward him. He kneels in front of him. Steve moans again. Tony’s as pretty as a picture on his knees, pupils blown wide, hair mussed just enough that Steve wonders what they were up to while he was out of the box. He reaches for Steve’s right hand and traces the lines on his palm as he cuffs it to the armrest. The left hand, he presses kisses to each fingertip before he cuffs it as well. Then he stands and shimmies out of his shorts, leaving them in a heap in front of Steve, before he climbs back into Bucky’s lap. Steve catches the barest glimpse of red lace beneath Tony’s shirt and he strains at the cuffs futilely.

“Good boy,” Bucky murmurs as he settles his metal hand on Tony’s ass again, squeezing rhythmically. Tony keens until Bucky guides his head back to his neck and then he starts nibbling on his ear. His hand clenches and releases in Bucky’s hair like he’s not sure what else to do with it.

Bucky lifts his head to stare directly at Steve as his right hand slides slowly down Tony’s front, plucking at the buttons. The shirt drapes open, concealing Tony’s chest but not Bucky’s hand as it moves further down to cup the bulge in Tony’s panties. Tony mewls and pushes into it; Bucky turns his hand and gives Tony an agonizingly slow stroke. Steve’s unable to tear his eyes away as the thumb passes over where the head of Tony’s cock strains against the red lace.

“You coulda had this,” Bucky taunts. The metal hand slides between Tony’s cheeks, pressing the lace inward. A moment later, Tony jumps like he’s been electrocuted. “You just had to keep your hands off for one measly week.”

“I didn’t hear you complainin’,” Steve snaps. He pulls at the cuffs again but these were made by Tony specifically to keep him still. The effort is utterly wasted.

Bucky laughs. “Course not. _I _wasn’t the one who made the bet, was I?” He pulls his hand away from Tony’s cock to wrap around his waist instead. His metal hand comes up and presses two fingers against the seam of Tony’s lips. “Suck, doll.”

Tony wraps his lips around them eagerly, swallowing them down with a moan. Steve humps the air furiously, desperate for friction that he’ll never get.

“Bucky,” he breathes. “Bucky, _please_.”

“Nah,” Bucky replies. “It’s the last day. You wouldn’t wanna have to go another month, would ya?”

If it meant he could get his hands on Tony, Steve’s not so sure. But Bucky’s not going to let him go, he knows that. He strains at the cuffs one more time. The chair creaks; Bucky eyes him darkly.

“Careful,” he warns. “You’ll be the one explaining it.”

Steve stills. He absolutely does _not _want to have to explain why he broke a chair. Bucky pulls his fingers from Tony’s mouth and slips the hand down the back of the red panties. Steve can’t see precisely what he does but he can guess judging by the way Tony throws his head back and moans, loud and long.

“Look at you,” Bucky coos. Steve follows his gaze to his own pants stained dark where his cock’s been leaking against them. “You gonna come, Stevie? With nothin’ more than my words and the sight of our pretty doll?” His metal hand flexes against Tony’s ass, punctuated with Tony’s hitching gasps. The other one pulls the front of the panties down, exposing Tony’s angry red cock to the air.

He runs a single finger up the side and then back down. “Coulda been you,” he mutters and thrusts his fingers into Tony almost viciously. Tony sobs, pressing his face against Bucky’s throat. He’s saying something but Steve can’t hear him through the blood rushing in his ears.

“He’s askin’ for you,” Bucky tells him. His hand curls around Tony’s cock, thumbing at the slit. “It’s your name he’s cryin’ for.”

Steve’s hips stutter into the air and he moans loud enough that he’s sure someone walking by can hear him no matter how much soundproofing the box has. He’s dying to bury himself in Tony’s perfect ass, bury himself and never come back out. He’s doesn’t get it, how Bucky can look so unaffected when he’s got a half-naked, desperate Tony in his lap.

“Buck,” he whispers. “Look at him.”

Bucky smiles lopsidedly, idly stroking Tony’s cock as Tony whines into his neck. “Looking at you instead, wondering how you ever thought we’d let you get off this easily.” He glances down at the wet patch on Steve’s pants.

“Come for me,” he orders. “Look at our pretty doll and think about what you missed out on and _come for me_.”

He twists his hand just right, thrusts his fingers just so, and Tony stiffens- keens- and comes, spilling over Bucky’s hand and the red lace. Steve groans once at the sight and then he’s coming in his pants, the wet patch spreading as his cock twitches. He’s desperate for more friction, for the feel of Tony’s small hand on his cock stroking him through it, but he presses into the fabric as much as he can, doubling over his stomach, vision whiting out at the edges.

Steve comes back to himself a few minutes later to see Bucky kneeling in front of him, rubbing his wrists where the handcuffs had cut into them. “Should’ve just relaxed,” Bucky says.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he murmurs. “You didn’t come.”

Bucky shrugs. “I’m not the one who has to go back to a separate bed tonight."

Steve ignores his taunt and looks past him to where Tony’s fully dressed again and curled into the corner of the couch, watching them drowsily.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asks.

“S’posed to be me,” Tony slurs.

Steve frowns. Bucky glances over his shoulder. “Hmm?”

“_I _was s’posed to be the one, not _Bucky_.”

He doesn’t say anything more, eyes starting to droop closed, but he doesn’t have to especially not when Bucky amusedly eyes Steve’s pants and says, “Oh doll, you were.”


End file.
